


See No Damage

by TMar



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: AU post-Archangel, Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-09 00:21:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16439618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TMar/pseuds/TMar
Summary: Duncan MacLeod discovers that he didn't kill Richie after all. He and Richie go back to the barge to work things out. Sexually.





	See No Damage

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from a line from a Crash Test Dummies song. The song isn't relevant but the line is. "Mirror image, see no damage, see no evil at all".  
> This story was previously posted to one or other Highlander fanfic archive back in 1997; I can't remember which one (or even the names of them TBH).  
> This story was beta-read by two friends of mine from the Highlander mailing list, HIGHLA-L. I'm not sure they'd appreciate having their names broadcast here 20 years later, so I've left them off. But thanks, ladies!

SEE NO DAMAGE

By T'Mar

"Damn you!" Richie Ryan said to the demon, or whatever it was, as it  
showed him the event that had just been played out at the ravetrack.  
"Damn you! This will kill Duncan!"

The demon smirked at him, looking for all the world like Mikey on  
acid. It had known about Mikey... and Mako... Kristov... Alec Hall...  
and he'd seen all their faces as it paraded before him, taunting him. "I  
can keep you here forever," it said. "And maybe I will."

"You don't need me!" Richie told it.

"No, but he does. That's why you're here."

"I know him, dammit! He'd never do that to me!"

"Ah, but he didn't know it was you. I appeared as you, my young one."

Richie was confused, tired and angry. "But it wasn't me."

Now it looked like Culbraith. "All it took was a light show. Not hard,  
really. He thinks it was, and that's what counts, isn't it?"

"Why?" Richie was reduced to asking the one thing he'd been determined  
not to ask. After all, the thing was a demon - it was hardly going to tell  
the truth, was it?

"Because he's the One chosen for this fight. That's why."

"You won't win." Despite everything, Richie had faith in his teacher. "No  
way will you win. You don't know Mac."

"Oh, please. He's the original Boy Scout. Defeating him will be easy.  
I've already taken you, and those other two think he's crazy. Mission  
accomplished."

Richie tuned the demon out. He didn't know where he was, what day it was,  
or even how long he had been here. But they'd been having a variation on  
this conversation - at least, much of it - ever since he'd run into 'Mako'  
at the track. A flash of light, and he'd been... here. Wherever 'here' was.  
But he'd seen the events, and known, without knowing exactly *how*, that  
what the demon was showing him had really happened.

"It's time for my little showdown with the Highlander," the demon said.  
It now looked like Kronos, but of course this meant nothing to Richie.  
"Toodle-oo, my young friend. You may even get out of this alive. If I'm  
feeling generous."

"What if Duncan wins?" asked Richie, and for a split-second, he saw  
actual *fear* on the demon's pseudo-face. It didn't answer the question  
though, just morphed into Horton and disappeared.

"Goddammit!" Richie yelled, alone in some 'nowhere' place.

***

But Duncan did win, of course. Richie felt it when it happened - he wasn't  
sure how, but the strange presence, the weird emptiness, was gone. It was  
like a physical sensation, almost an anti-Quickening. He just knew. And as  
he looked around, the 'space' he'd been caged in seemed to vanish, to  
dissolve. Richie found himself at the track, at almost the exact spot where  
he'd seen the demon.

Richie checked - he only had the clothes he was wearing. His sword, his  
wallet, were gone. He had to get out of there and find Duncan, find out what  
happened...

***

Duncan MacLeod had won, but the pain that lanced through him every time he  
even thought about what it had cost him to be Good's champion made the  
victory bitter. Richie. How could he have let that... that... *thing*...  
trick him into killing Richie? That Quickening had *hurt* in a way that no  
other ever had, and Duncan put it down to guilt, to pain. It hadn't felt  
like Richie despite the images he'd seen while it was happening, but he put  
that down to guilt as well, thinking he was sublimating the feeling because  
he didn't want to admit to himself what he'd done.

He wondered how much he had actually drunk since he had returned here, to  
the barge. It was a hell of a lot, that was all he knew. With any luck he'd  
get alcohol poisoning and die, which would guarantee an hour or so of  
blissful forgetfulness, at least. Where was Methos? Where was Joe? They  
thought he'd cracked up, and what could he tell them? 'No, I'm fine, I won.  
Whoops, killed Richie, but it was war, there's always collateral damage'??

And as much as he would have liked to go out and find an Immortal to  
fight, he knew that Richie would not have wanted him to commit suicide. That  
would have been what would have happened, he knew. Find someone, challenge  
him or her, let himself be taken. It would be so easy. The world was safe,  
now. It didn't need him anymore.

***

Richie stopped just short of buzz range. He could see the barge, floating  
opposite Notre Dame as it always had. The sight had previously been  
comforting - no matter what had happened, Richie had always had a haven  
here. Now... he hesitated. The demon had tricked Duncan into thinking he was  
dead - in effect, had tricked Duncan into thinking he had murdered his own  
pupil. And Richie knew Duncan MacLeod well enough to know that Duncan would  
in all likelihood think that this was another trick.

But he had to do it - had to go in there, say, "Mac, I'm alive." Had to  
explain what had happened back there, before Duncan did something stupid. He  
knew that about MacLeod too. Duncan would feel so bad over this that he  
might well do something stupid. Take a zillion sleeping tablets, leaving  
himself easy prey to the first headhunter that came along. Go looking for a  
fight and let himself be taken. If he had won, it meant that he wasn't  
*needed* anymore. Richie knew that's how Duncan would see it. He'd have to  
convince him that he *was* needed - by Richie Ryan if no one else.

***

Duncan felt the buzz and dragged himself up off the couch, wondering where  
he'd left his sword. It wasn't like him to forget, but then it wasn't like  
him to kill his own pupil either! The sword wasn't even his - it was Graham  
Ash's, or rather Richie's. But it was all he had, here. He stood up, finally  
found it, and stood gripping it more steadily by the second as the rush from  
the buzz began to clear the alcohol from his system.

"Mac?" A strawberry blonde head poked around the door.

Duncan dropped the sword. "R... Richie?" Then it occurred to him that  
Richie was dead, that this had to be some sort of... illusion. "Go away," he  
told it, turning his back. "You can't be real."

Richie came further inside. "Mac! It's me!"

Duncan wondered why he was even bothering to talk to the illusion. "It  
can't be you, Rich. You're dead. I got the Quickening."

Richie wanted to move forward, grab Duncan and let him feel solid flesh  
and bone, but he didn't dare. "It was the demon, Mac. It... I dunno, it  
trapped me somewhere. Taunted me. Showed me what it made you think you'd  
done. I dunno why it didn't just kill me - maybe it just got its kicks  
seeing me squirm." He took a tentative step forward, then another. Two more  
steps and he would be within touching distance of the highlander. "I think  
it knew you'd never kill me. I think it knew I'd never just let myself be  
killed that way." Another step. "Mac? Are you listening to this? It knew, so  
it got me out of the way. I think it wanted to taunt me afterwards, to have  
someone to gloat at." Richie took the last step, and was now facing his  
teacher. "But it didn't work out that way. I knew you'd win. I knew  
everything would be okay."

It was the openness on that face that finally convinced Duncan. The demon  
had never managed to convey that part of Richie - the vulnerable youth who  
needed love and affection. And then Richie said, a little helplessly,  
"Please, Mac..." and it undid Duncan completely. He touched Richie's hair  
just once, as if making sure, then in a rush he put his arms around his  
pupil and hugged him, wanting to reassure himself that this wasn't another  
illusion or hallucination, wanting to make sure that Richie was real.

"Oh, my God," Duncan said, feeling the solid presence of the younger  
Immortal against him. "Richie!"

"Yeah, Mac," Richie replied, smiling even as he hugged the highlander  
back with all his strength.

"Oh, God," Duncan said again, unable even now to fully comprehend it. "I  
got you back. Richie!"

"It's me," Richie agreed happily, pulling back a little, wanting to see  
the happiness on his friend's face.

As Richie pulled away enough to face him, Duncan leaned forward, meaning  
to... He wasn't sure, afterwards, what he'd meant, but suddenly he was  
kissing Richie.

For his part, Richie was surprised at the gesture, but all he could feel  
aside from the surprise was joy that Duncan cared. He let it happen, not  
even thinking about the fact that here he was, kissing his teacher. His  
*male*, Scottish, warrior teacher.

All Duncan could feel was an instinctive need to get closer to Richie, to  
reassure himself that he was alive. He deepened the kiss without even  
realising it, feeling only warmth and *life* as it flowed between them. But  
when Richie began to reciprocate the intimate touches Duncan had been  
performing with his tongue, a warning bell went off. Duncan shoved himself  
away from his pupil, hearing his own accelerated breathing in the silence.  
He just stared at Richie, and Richie stared at him. "This is a trick," he  
said. "You're the demon. You're trying..."

"NO!" Richie yelled it. "You know I'm not." Duncan had stepped away, and  
now Richie followed him. "You're just scared, Mac, that's all. You kissed  
me, and I kissed you back, and now you're scared." He paused, trying to  
think of something wise to say. What would Darius have said? "Scared is  
okay, Mac. It shows us we're still alive."

Duncan calmed down a little. "Okay. You're right, Rich. Sorry." He  
attempted normality. "I don't know what made me do that..."

"Maybe you just needed to affirm life. I read that somewhere," he added  
quickly, smiling, but noticing that Duncan's breathing had not calmed down.  
Richie looked further down, and stifled a gasp. There was no mistaking the  
bulge in his friend's pants.

MacLeod saw the look, and flushed. "Richie... I..."

Richie swallowed, hard, tried to decide. There was something here,  
something neither of them understood, but which couldn't be denied. A  
tension, taking sexual form by the looks of things. "Mac." He hoped he  
sounded reasonable. "Is this... do you want me?" He knew he sounded  
incredulous, but that didn't matter. What mattered was Duncan's answer.

Duncan stumbled away from him to sit on the couch. "I don't know what's  
going on. I've never... not with any pupil of mine, not with any man... This  
is insane!"

"I have read stuff, Mac. People use sex to get over stuff like this. It's  
okay."

And as he sat there listening to Richie, Duncan realised that he ached in  
some strange way, and it was coming out as a sexual need. *Need*. He risked  
looking into Richie's blue eyes as his pupil sat down close to him. "You...  
you'd *let* me...?"

"I dunno about *letting*," his friend said, his eyes alight with  
amusement. "I think this is something we both need, or it wouldn't have  
happened."

"No. This..." began Duncan, but even as he tried to shy away from the  
idea, his body was moving *towards* Richie. Then they were kissing again,  
and Duncan bore Richie down, to lie over him, his mind denying what they  
were doing. Then he felt hands tugging at the belt of his pants...

Even pinned by the highlander's strength, Richie had his own agenda. If  
it hadn't been so damn frightening, they would both have laughed.

Duncan wanted to deny it, wanted to pull away, but then the hands  
wrenched his zipper down, and his pants and underwear were being struggled  
with.

"Mac, you gotta help me here," said Richie, sounding perfectly sane and  
logical. "I can't reach."

Duncan squirmed and managed to struggle enough so that the constricting  
clothing on his lower body was out of the way; then he did the same with  
Richie's, until they were finally together, warm skin pressed up against  
warm skin, hardnesses meeting in a very undignified, primal rhythm.

Duncan's mind shut down; all he had left was the sensation of Richie here  
beneath him, with him... alive.

***

Richie woke up feeling a little hot and claustrophobic. Then he realised why  
\- he was lying on the couch, sandwiched between the back of it and a  
sleeping highlander. He smiled to himself, taking in all outside stimuli. He  
still had on his T-shirt and overshirt; he was still wearing sneakers and  
socks. In fact, he was still wearing his jeans and underwear, although they  
were bunched around his knees. There was rather a mess in between him and  
Duncan, though.

Duncan. Richie looked at his teacher. He had seen Duncan in many states:  
dead, drunk, hallucinating, evil... he'd even seen him making love to Tessa  
once, when he'd walked into their bedroom unannounced. He'd seen him sleep.  
But until now he'd never seen him look so... relieved? Relaxed? At peace  
with the world? Richie gave up trying to think of a name for the way Duncan  
looked. It was not a look Richie would have wished to see on anyone, for it  
had the sense of pain overcome, and if anyone should be spared pain it was  
Duncan MacLeod. In that moment Richie knew for certain that Duncan loved  
him, had always loved him. Maybe not in the romantic sense - whatever Duncan  
was, an opportunist he was not - but there was love between them.

And Richie Ryan knew that he loved his teacher, too. Maybe not in the  
romantic sense, but this man had taken him in, cared for him, told him  
things he hadn't even told Tessa. They had shared so much, was it any wonder  
that they had shared this, too?

Richie got up - very carefully, so as not to wake the highlander - and  
went into the bathroom to shower.

***

At first, Duncan felt only a sense of loss, of being alone. He surmised that  
he'd dreamed Richie being alive, being with him, their being together... But  
when he processed the sensations and sounds and found himself sprawled on  
the couch with his pants restricting the circulation in his legs, listening  
to a passable rendition of 'Blaze of Glory' emanating from the shower,  
relief supplanted the loss, and love came to the fore.

But Duncan didn't move right away. He had to try and assimilate what had  
happened last night.

The idea of what he'd done shocked him. After four hundred years of total  
heterosexuality, he had basically pounced on Richie with sexual intent. No,  
that wasn't true. The sexual feelings had come later, in the wash of joy  
that Richie was alive. MacLeod wasn't naive; he'd thought about men  
occasionally, but had only attempted to act on it once, and it had been a  
disaster. He hadn't liked it at all. Alexei had told him that it would be  
easy to forget that the person with him was a man once sexual contact had  
been initiated, but he had lied, and Duncan had forever after viewed him  
with distaste. He hadn't been able to go through with it; it had just felt  
*wrong*. But in the light of having been with Richie, Duncan now thought of  
another possibility: maybe he had just disliked Alexei.

Thoughts of those events in Russia vanished as Duncan realised that he  
was going to have to face Richie in the light of day. What was he going to  
say to him? That it had been a mistake? The thing was, it didn't feel like a  
mistake. It had felt so right, so good.

Duncan sat up, pulling his clothes off. He was going to be a typical  
stubborn Scot, and face this head-on.

***

Richie stopped in mid-chorus as the shower door slid open, and a pair of  
deep brown eyes looked at him. Richie swallowed, seeing that Duncan was as  
naked as he was. "Mac?"

"Can I share?" Duncan asked with no preamble. "I told you long ago not to  
waste the hot water on the barge."

"Uh... sure," was all his pupil could stammer as he moved out of the way.

"Soap." Richie passed Duncan the soap, and MacLeod began to lather  
himself, washing the traces of their encounter away.

Richie just stood there, uncertain of what to do. Did Duncan really  
*only* want to share? He wasn't given the chance to think much beyond this,  
as Duncan put the soap back in the holder and turned to him. "Talk to me,  
Richie."

Richie leaned back against the shower partition. "I dunno what to say."  
He looked at MacLeod through a curtain of pelting water.

"Do you want to kill me for last night?" It was a sincere question.

"Hell, no!" He'd almost yelled it. "No, Mac."

"Then what?"

"I dunno!" Richie did yell it this time. "I was so relieved that I was  
okay, and you were okay... And I kinda liked it."

Duncan said nothing; he merely looked at Richie, needing to hear whatever  
his pupil had to say.

"Ah, hell," Richie finally said. "I liked it a lot. But I dunno why..."

This time Duncan cut him off. "Does the why really matter?" He wasn't  
sure there would ever be an answer.

"I dunno, Mac," Richie said, and stepped up to him, melding their wet  
bodies together. "I suppose not." Then he reached up, and Duncan leaned  
down, and this time the kiss was mutual, because this time they knew what  
they were doing, and what this would lead to.

Duncan broke away first, not bothering to conceal his need, or the state  
he was in. "Not in here. I meant it, about the water."

"I know." Richie grinned, and they both got out and dried off, leaving  
the towels on the deck in the bathroom.

***

Richie stood before Duncan's bed, uncertainty gripping him. How many people  
had Duncan made love to, in this bed? Tessa. Anne. That imposter woman,  
Lisa. Amanda. And those were the ones he knew about. It wasn't so much that  
he cared if this was a one-night stand - he'd had enough of those to realise  
that as long as you recognised it, you'd be fine - but that he might not  
*know* what the hell this was. Not knowing was the problem.

Duncan came up behind him, wrapping his arms around him, as he had many  
times before. That was okay, that felt safe.

"Rich?"

Richie turned around, kissing his teacher, not wanting to find out what  
this was, not right now. He would make love with Duncan, and worry about it  
afterwards.

***

Neither of them knew exactly what they wanted to do. Duncan knew *what* to  
do, and Richie had a definite idea, but when they were lying together in the  
bed it suddenly seemed... unreal. But they couldn't talk about it; talking  
would only create a barrier, something to make them slow down, put this off.  
And the urgency of last night - the desperate need to affirm that they were  
both alive and okay - had returned.

Richie reached up, wanting to touch, wanting to feel the skin he had seen  
bared so many times. But now the awareness had changed, and  
self-consciousness stopped him.

Duncan saw, and grasped the hand, bringing it to his collarbone, letting  
Richie decide where to place it.

Richie closed his eyes and just felt, as he moved his hand downwards,  
caressing the wonderfully textured skin hesitantly. He wanted to do more  
than caress, though, and moved forward, too scared to look up at Duncan and  
seek permission. He figured that if Duncan didn't like it, he'd let him  
know.

But Duncan did like it - a lot - and as those lips touched him he moaned  
aloud, feeling the smile as Richie did it again, eliciting yet another moan.  
It was good, to be kissed this way. Many women had done this for him, of  
course, but this felt... different. There wasn't only lust in his heart, not  
only a pure pleasure, there was also... Newness. Love. A sense of discovery.  
He wanted Richie to know it, too, and touched his head, urging him away.

There was a question in Richie's eyes as Duncan did this, but when the  
highlander bent to reciprocate the caress, kissing him in between the dark  
red curls which grew so fetchingly across his chest, everything made sense  
in Richie's mind. Whatever this was, it was completely mutual. Whatever  
would happen, they would both experience it to the full. Then a tongue  
touched his right nipple, and the searing heat in his groin made him cry  
aloud. "God, Mac!" For Richie, who'd been pleasured this way before, it was  
still a shock that such a simple touch could undo him so. And it was then  
that he knew he'd let MacLeod try anything, that he'd try anything himself  
if it would bring that kind of pleasure.

When he opened his eyes after the sensations stopped, Richie found Duncan  
bending over him. He grinned at him, wanting to say something now, but  
unable to think of anything. Then he frowned - Duncan looked apprehensive.  
"What?" He said it before he remembered they weren't supposed to be saying  
anything.

"I..." Duncan blushed, and in that second Richie knew what he wanted. If  
someone had told him a year ago that he'd actually be considering doing  
this, he would have hit them, but now all that Richie could think of was he  
would do anything for Duncan MacLeod.

But Richie wasn't able to speak, to give permission of any kind. He had  
to wait for his teacher to say it.

Duncan finally managed to blurt, "Turn over, Rich."

Richie looked once into his eyes, smiled slightly, and did as he was  
asked. "Just remember my age, okay?" His voice had come back, and there was  
deliberate humour in it.

"You're Immortal, you'll heal," Duncan said, surprised at the cavalier  
attitude they were both suddenly saddled with.

"Great," Richie quipped as Duncan fished around in the bedside table and  
came up with a very well-used tube. "Uh... Mac... you gotta tell me who  
*that* was." He indicated the tube.

Duncan gave him his 'Richie, you idiot' look (an affectionate look, one  
that he'd used a lot when they'd first met) and replied, "Amanda."

"Should have known."

Then Duncan got down to the business at hand, and Richie found there was  
nothing more he wanted to say.

It was all weird after that - the feeling of Duncan touching him, the  
intense slippery sensations... and finally his own body's co-operation.  
Maybe tomorrow he'd wake up and be shocked, but right now he couldn't summon  
up anything like that.

And when the act was complete, when they were one, when he could feel  
Duncan's breath on his neck and wisps of the highlander's hair along his  
shoulders, Richie knew that it would never shock him, because he was loved.  
And being loved by Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod was the best gift he'd  
even been given.

***

"Richie?" Duncan moved away, moving to look into his pupil's eyes. He'd been  
startled by the complete surrender, and even now he was uneasy. This was not  
how Richie behaved. Duncan became afraid again. What if the demon...?  
"Richie!"

"Yeah, yeah, give a guy a break," came the muffled voice.

Duncan turned Richie over and gathered him into his arms. "Are you all  
right?"

"Of course I'm all right, Mac. Geez."

"You scared me."

"Sorry. I was enjoying myself." And Richie had to smile at the uncertain  
look that came over MacLeod's face just then.

"You were?"

"Yeah."

But as he gathered Richie even closer, Duncan could feel that he hadn't  
enjoyed himself to the full. "But..."

"Mac, I won't die if I don't come." It was the first time either of them  
had used a word relating directly to the sex act, and Duncan, rather  
surprisingly, blushed.

"But..." He tried again. "I want it for you, Rich."

"Yeah, okay. Any way I want?" There had been a tacit, unspoken agreement  
about this.

"Yeah."

"Okay." Richie put his hand on Duncan's head and urged him downwards,  
hoping that he wouldn't have to say the words.

He didn't. Duncan looked down at the need, and then back up at his pupil.  
Many women had done this for him, but he'd always wondered what it was like,  
for them. Now he was about to find out. He leaned down to make love to  
Richie with his mouth.

***

Methos felt the buzz as he neared the barge, and thanked every god he'd ever  
worshipped that Duncan was still alive. Like Richie, he'd been afraid that  
the highlander would find some permanent way of committing suicide.

"He's there?" Joe asked, drawing alongside.

"Someone is," said the oldest Immortal, grasping his sword inside his  
coat.

"What makes you think he'll be okay now? That power outage we saw  
yesterday could have been anything."

"It was a Quickening," Methos said.

"Are you sure, Adam?"

"Yeah. There was something... *wrong*... in it, though."

"So now you've decided that maybe MacLeod was right, and some... some  
evil thing was out to get him, and then destroy the world, but Duncan  
managed to stop it?" They'd had this conversation before, but Joe was still  
questioning. If Duncan had been telling the truth, then Richie needn't have  
died. He, Methos and Duncan were all responsible for the young Immortal's  
death.

And that was another thing. Joe had seen Richie fight for his life  
against Duncan MacLeod once before. He would *never* have walked into  
Duncan's sword that way. But that was what the highlander had said happened.

"I dunno, Joe," Methos was saying. "If Duncan was right - then why have I  
been alive for all these years? I'm not any sort of 'chosen one', am I? Five  
thousand years and I haven't managed to save the world yet."

"You said it yourself, Methos. You're just a guy."

"Yeah." Methos paused. "And I want to live."

"There's nothing wrong with that, you know."

Methos smiled briefly at Joe. "How did someone as young as you get to be  
so smart?"

"Oh, us mortals have to get smart fast," Joe chuckled. "No time to do  
anything else."

***

Richie and Duncan woke at the same time when they felt the buzz. Richie  
reached for his sword, but it wasn't there. Instead, Duncan was on his feet,  
naked, holding it.

"Who do you think it is?" Richie asked, trying to remember where he'd  
left his clothes. Oh, yeah - in the bathroom. Great.

"Probably Methos, but one can't be too careful."

"Mac, don't you think you should put on some clothes, or a robe, or  
something?"

It was too late, then, as Methos walked in the side door nearest the bed.  
"MacLeod?" He stopped dead, and was barrelled into by Joe, who couldn't stop  
quite as suddenly.

Duncan lowered the sword, and walked over to the bed to get a sheet to  
cover himself with. But Methos wasn't even looking at him, he was staring at  
Richie.

None of the Immortals spoke. Joe was the one to break the silence.  
"Richie?!"

"Hey, Joe." Richie attempted a warm smile, all the while holding the  
bedcover up over himself.

Methos' face changed. Suspicion, then anger, then disbelief all flashed  
in those hazel eyes. Finally, he struck a nonchalant pose. "What's going on  
here?"

By now Duncan had managed to cover himself up, and Joe had come all the  
way in.

"I suppose you'd better come and sit down," Duncan said, rather wearily.  
"It's kind of a long story." He dragged on some pants and a sweatshirt while  
the two Watchers made themselves at home. Richie dug around for something  
and ended up in a pair of Duncan's sweatpants and a loose shirt. He and  
Richie went into the barge's sitting area to explain.

***

The story about the demon was easy enough, after which Duncan went to make  
coffee. Maybe those two would be the souls of discretion and not ask the  
*other* obvious question. Yeah right.

"So, what exactly did we walk in on?" Methos asked. He watched as blue  
and brown eyes met across the barge, and finally Duncan shrugged. Methos  
turned to Richie. "Well?"

"He was kinda happy to see me," Richie said, blushing bright red. "And I  
was happy to be alive, and, well, you know..."

Joe snorted once, then burst out laughing. "I can't believe this!"

"*You* can't?" Methos asked him.

Duncan felt rather... odd... being stared at this way by two of his  
closest friends. But when he looked at Methos, there was an evil glint in  
the oldest Immortal's eye.

"I would never have believed it," Methos said. "Duncan MacLeod of the  
clan MacLeod, the straightest man on Earth. And Richie..." He eyed Richie,  
thinking better of vocalizing what he was thinking - namely, that Richie was  
the stereotype of a macho street punk who certainly wasn't due for his  
sexuality crisis for another millennium or so.

Joe had to chime in now. "You, Richie?"

Richie got up, pacing in the small space. "Okay, guys! Knock it off! It  
happened, and I'm not sorry, and there's no need to make a whole production  
out of it, okay!"

Methos grinned slyly and winked at Joe, annoying Richie even more.

"WHAT!"

"It's nothing, Rich," Joe said. He knew as well as Methos that the  
Chronicles of too many Immortals stated that eventually they did try - well,  
straying over to the other side. But both Joe and Methos would have bet that  
Duncan wouldn't do it for at least a few more centuries, and that Richie was  
too young to have misgivings about his sexual identity just yet. In fact,  
knowing Richie's temper Joe would have bet that the young Immortal would  
have taken the head of anyone who dared suggest he might not be completely  
straight.

"Don't give me that," said Richie, realising that if he wanted them to be  
serious he'd have to calm down. "What?" he said as he sat down again.

"It happens to us all," grinned Methos, "sooner or later."

Aha! Richie looked at Methos with a measuring gaze. "And was it sooner  
or later with you?"

"Oh, sooner," Methos replied as he finally burst out laughing. He  
couldn't keep it in anymore.

Duncan arrived with the coffee cups and sat down too - next to Richie,  
but not all that close. He looked serious now, and the others picked up on  
it.

"Why didn't the demon kill you?" Methos asked Richie.

"I don't know. I think it was looking forward to gloating, afterwards."

"Yeah, that makes sense," Joe suddenly said. "If it made Duncan *think*  
he'd killed you and it'd won, it wouldn't have mattered. And this way it  
would have tortured you before going out to wreak havoc on the world."

"That still doesn't tell us why," Duncan offered.

"Doesn't it?" Joe looked thoughtful. "Look, Mac. The Millennium was up,  
right? But people don't believe in things like that anymore. We ascribe  
scientific explanations to everything. Maybe the demon would have got its  
kicks knowing that someone knew the truth of what was happening to the  
world."

"But I knew it wouldn't win," Richie said. He turned and looked at  
Duncan, and the atmosphere became charged as they just looked at each other.

"Uh, Joe, I think that's our cue to leave." Methos finished his coffee in  
one gulp and got up.

"Right." Joe got up and followed Methos to the door. "We'll see you guys  
around, okay?"

Duncan had gotten up as well, but while he wanted to protest that they  
didn't have to leave, he couldn't. He knew that he and Richie had some  
talking to do. He closed the door behind his friends and returned to the  
couch, where Richie was now sprawling.

"Rich?"

"What they said is true, you know," Richie said without sitting up.  
"You're the straightest man I know."

"Yeah...?"

"And I would never have figured me for this. Never."

"So?" Duncan wanted to grab Richie and shake what he had to say out of  
him, but he knew he had to be patient. His student was clearly working up to  
something.

"So I don't think this is like a relationship or anything. The one we had  
was fine just like that." He moved a little in the chair, not sure if Duncan  
would agree or not.

"You mean this doesn't change anything," Duncan clarified, wondering why  
he felt both relieved and a little sad at the same time.

"Exactly. I mean, I do love you, Mac. But I don't think it's time for us  
to move to San Francisco and start picking out china patterns, you know?"

Hearing Richie say that he loved him brought a lump to the highlander's  
throat, and he swallowed hard. "Yeah, I think that would be premature." He  
smiled at Richie. "You do know I love you, too, Rich?"

"Yeah, of course I know." Richie paused. "So what do we do now?"

"I think pretending nothing happened is out. That'd be pretty silly. But  
I am attracted to you, and I think you are to me. Right?"

Richie nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"So what do you say if we carry on as before, and if we do want more, we  
can deal with that when it happens?"

That sounded good to Richie. "Okay, Mac." Duncan smiled, shook his head  
and got up again. "You want breakfast?"

"Sure."

"You wash some dishes while I see what I have left."

They had a pretty traditional breakfast of eggs, toast (mainly because  
the bread was not exactly fresh) and some fish which was all Duncan still  
had in the way of anything edible. The atmosphere was comfortable, but every  
so often their eyes would meet and one or the other would smile shyly and  
look away.

***

After breakfast Richie cleared away the plates (like he'd always done  
since the day he'd gone to live with Duncan and Tessa) and Duncan prepared  
to go out and do a little food shopping.

"Rich? I'm just going to the store." He found Richie looking at his  
sword.

"Mac? Where's your sword?"

"I left it at the racetrack. The Watchers probably have it now."

"Can you get it back?"

"I dunno... Joe might help me get it back if I really wanted it. But it's  
not worth it. Even... even though I know you're alive... I don't want to  
remember what I thought I did with it. I'll buy a new one."

"*Buy* one?" Richie was surprised. He was positive Duncan had lots of  
swords in storage.

"Yeah. I don't want one with a history. It's time for a new start."

"Can I have mine back?" Richie said it with slight trepidation.

"Sure, Rich." Duncan picked up the sword and handed it to Rich. As he did  
so, their hands touched.

Richie felt tingles all the way up his arm and into his body, and when he  
looked at Duncan he could see that the highlander felt the same.

But Duncan pulled his hand away. "I'd better get to the store..."

"Mac." Richie's voice stopped him.

"What, Rich?"

"It's okay." He moved to intercept Duncan before he could get out the  
door. "It's okay to want more." He smiled then - the open, loving smile that  
few people had ever seen. "This might be our first case of needing to handle  
it."

Duncan couldn't look at him. All those lofty words... and look at the two  
of them. "What would you suggest, Rich?"

Richie moved closer, invading his teacher's space. "Oh, I dunno." His  
tone indicated, however, that he *did* know. "We could work it off somehow."

Duncan looked at him now, and smiled when he saw the acceptance and  
understanding in Richie's eyes. "I suppose you're going to tell me how?"

"Well... let me give you a hint." And with that Richie leaned up and  
kissed his teacher, providing slightly *more* than a hint. When they finally  
parted, Richie said through deep breaths, "I think the store can wait, don't  
you?"

"Mmmm... probably," agreed the highlander, giving in to the urge to back  
Richie against the wall and have his way with him.

***

"I wonder what they're doing now?" Joe wondered as he and Methos sat having  
a beer at an outdoor cafe.

Methos just looked at him over the rim of his beer bottle. "What do you  
think?"

Joe flushed slightly. "Yeah. I suppose so."

"I'd bet on it. Oh, they'll have lots of discussions over it. You know  
MacLeod. But I'm willing to bet that they work sex into their existing  
relationship without much trouble."

"You think?"

"Yeah."

"You ever do that?"

"A few times." Methos didn't give anything away without having to.

"And? Did it work out?"

"Once or twice."

"Think it'll work for MacLeod and Richie?"

"Maybe."

"Oh, you're such a comfort," Joe said, an ironic tone in his voice.

"Always," grinned the oldest Immortal.

Joe just shook his head, grinned, and finished his beer.

THE END


End file.
